


i just thought i'd lost you

by cyrusbarrone



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a silly notion calling for the man he loved when he knew there was little hope of him being there. He could hear the tarp of the broken HAB flapping freely in the storm where a piece of ductape had come loose; he could feel the grit of Martian sand underneath his nails. His stomach suddenly felt small and shriveled and hunger nudged the edges of his brain; poking and poking until his stomach growled a response. </p><p>Oh god. He could hear the silence of the empty planet and he couldn't get away from it, he was the first man to colonize a planet and the first man to die alone on a planet</p>
            </blockquote>





	i just thought i'd lost you

**Author's Note:**

> A fic based on the idea of Mark being deeply affected by his time on Mars. PTSD sort of thing I guess.

Mark's hand shot out to his side and adrenaline launched his body upright. His back was curved inwards and his shirt was tacky where it stuck against his shoulder blades; his shorts caught around his thighs and his hair stuck up in various angles from sweat. 

"Chris?" he asked quietly in a soft voice, fingers patting around. His fingers didn’t hit against anything, instead there was an empty air where he felt around and when he felt nothing his lungs felt slowly constricted. It was as though a giant hand was squeezing and squeezing until his lungs burst. His body began to subconsciously rock back and forth as it retracted back into itself, like someone had pressed the reset button on Mark Watney and he were curling back into the fetus position. His knees drew to his chest and his arms ribboned around them.

"Chris?" he repeated hoarsely. 

It was a silly notion calling for the man he loved when he knew there was little hope of him being there. He could hear the tarp of the broken HAB flapping freely in the storm where a piece of ductape had come loose; he could feel the grit of Martian sand underneath his nails. His stomach suddenly felt small and shriveled and hunger nudged the edges of his brain; poking and poking until his stomach growled a response. 

Oh god. He could hear the silence of the empty planet and he couldn't get away from it, he was the first man to colonize a planet and the first man to die alone on a planet. 

His fingernails dug into the meat of his arms; digging until he felt the moons blossom under his skin. He only moved in the movement of those comfortably insane; the back and forth of a clocks pendulum and the weary biting of the lip.

Suddenly a hand pressed against his shoulder and Mark jumped back; startled. 

"Chris?" he whispered, blinking at the dark figure in the room. 

Where was he? The dark was the black stretch of sky and the light the splattered paint of stars and the hand on his shoulder a duvet for warmth. Where was he? Mars. The red planet; alone. He’d been there for a year and a half; there was no other place he could be…

The hand on his shoulder remained and he blinked his curious and sad eyes at the figure. Why was he here? Two lives couldn't be maintained on Mars for so long; one of them was going to die. He didn’t want anyone else to die because of his sad and lonely planet. His eyes flickered and his hand reached out to comfort the other for they were to die here. His fingers settled in a cable knit jumper and he grabbed desperately, pulling at the figure until he could feel more of him.

The surface he was sat on dipped and a knee pressed comfortingly against his thigh. 

"Where are you?" asked the figure; definitely Chris. His voice was the soft concerned tones of a doctor. Mark twisted his fingers in the knit of his sweater and the hand on his lungs let up a little. "Mark."

Mark thought it was a stupid question to ask. The crescents in his arm stung. "Mars,” he said and tears sprung to his eyes, stinging and burning and something he was so used to by now. Slowly his body resumed the likeness of a metronome; back and forth back and forth. "I'm so alone. We’re so alone, Chris.”

"No," said Chris and Mark admired his defiance. Chris’ hand pushed back his hair and sweat held it back off his face. "You're on Earth, Mark. We are on Earth. You have been for several months. You're currently in our apartment."

And suddenly he didn't hear the flapping of the tarp, the blood chilling sense of terror that his engineering was no longer saving his stupid life. The grit underneath his nails wriggled its way out and fell to the floor like confetti; the hunger was replaced with the warm fullness of Chris Beck's roast dinner. There, indeed, was no silence at all; rain pattered on the tiles and a dog whined mournfully across the way. 

"Where are you, Mark?" Chris asked again calmly as though Mark wasn’t freaking out; as though this happened a lot. His fingers were still in Mark's hair and it was clear he wanted to curl an arm around the breadth of his shoulder and bring him in for comfort. "C'mon, tell me, Watney."

Mark blinked, his illusion sliding away. They were in a dark room that looked nothing like the inside of the HAB or of Hermes, there were photographs on the walls and there was even a long limbed dog at the end of the bed he sat on. Tears dribbled lazily down his cheeks in hot and tacky lines. His knees fell outwards and the curve of his back straightened almost sharply. "Earth," he said in realization, sticking his thumb between his teeth and nibbling at the tip, like a child fearing he’d given the wrong answer. "In our apartment."

Chris smiled at him, a sad sort of smile where the simple on his cheek didn’t show. He rubbed a careful hand over the cool clamminess of Mark’s drying sleep shirt. "That's right," he said gently, pressing a kiss into his hair line. Mark's fingers were still clenched around his biceps and the little moons felt itchy. He glanced at Chris, as though asking for approval as he said, “our apartment."

Mark leant into Chris, not wanting to see his reaction. Chris signaled the lights to lift and a soft lavender light filled the room making Chris a funny shade of lilac where it reflected off the walls. A warm and comforting arm wrapped around him fully and Mark leant into it like a cat, leaning until he was engulfed in Chris. His scent drowned him.

"You're okay?" he asked after a few moments of quiet, breathing in the smell of his silly cable knit jumper. "Chris?"

Chris rubbed at his arm and pressed a purple tinted mouth to Mark's head once more. "Yeah, Mark," he said. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

Mark didn't know the answer. He wasn't really; his mind was plagued with memories of the red planet and its lonely grasp. The fear that his rescue mission could have gotten his crew killed… But mainly he thought of Mars and the grip she still half on him; the haunting loneliness he’d never be able to forget. 

"I'm okay," he decided, bringing his nail to his teeth to pick at the Martian grit his mind had convinced was there. He took a breath and nodded a little bit. "I just thought I'd lost you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think!! I have several other Martian fics if you'd like to read them c:
> 
> my tumblr is docbossybeck.tumblr.com


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